


Caring is Not an Advantage

by nadie2



Series: Guardian Mycroft [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29695908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadie2/pseuds/nadie2
Summary: Summary: A year has passed since the end of "All Hearts are Broken." Mycroft is working a dangerous classified job which leaves him precious little time for family life. Greg feels as if he's been left alone to cope with Ollie's problems in school, John's conflict with his parents, Sherlock's rebellion, and the fact that Eurus's good behavior is earning her weekend furloughs.CW: child abuse, discussions of underaged sex (15-year-olds), learning problems
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Guardian Mycroft [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182308
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

The bed is unbearably cold, and it's not even really about temperature, even though the posh sheets that Mycroft buys do tend to get cold without body heat very fast. Greg knows without rolling over that Mycroft isn't in bed, but he still rolls over and reaches his arms out to the part of the bed where his partner belongs. His fingers slide across the smooth cold sheets, and Greg sighs.

If he had Mycroft's powers of deduction, he would probably know whether Mycroft came home at all last night. Sometimes Mycroft did return in the middle of the night without Greg knowing. Mycroft would check on them all asleep and grab a few hours of rest or a shower and some clean clothes. Greg has no idea how often that happened, and it isn't simply out of being too afraid to ask. The chances to actually ask that question had been few and far between over the course of the last couple of months. Honestly, Mycroft had been gone far more often than he’d been around. The few times he did have his husband at his disposal Greg was at loath to spend them complaining about how he needed more time with him.

Greg heads into the bathroom to wash and shave.

This wasn't the marriage… no, not a marriage, Mycroft had always been painfully clear about that. This wasn't the partnership then, that Greg had signed up for. He feels like a lonely single dad. He’s overwhelmed far more often than he’s not. It would help if he could just have a conversation with Mycroft so he could understand if this is what the other man truly wanted. Maybe Greg could put up with this if he knew for sure that this is the only way for his partner’s dream to come true.

He strips off his pajamas and turns the shower on. It splutters like it always does when the water hasn't been used in a day. Greg makes the reluctant deduction that Mycroft didn’t pop in on them last night.

Greg doesn't understand how this is what Mycroft wants. The Mycroft that he fell in love with was a caring man who would have done anything to make his family happy. Greg can't reconcile that Mycroft in his head with his current absentee partner. It feels like the man he love has been kidnapped. But maybe he'd just deluding himself so that he doesn’t have to face the fact that Mycroft chose to leave them every day. Maybe he'd only seen Mycroft as a family man because he'd wanted him to be one, because they'd started out with a readymade family, and he'd wanted to believe that Mycroft wanted it as badly as he did.

Greg scrubs soap onto his palms and washes himself down with his hand instead of a washcloth because Lord knows that is the only human touch he gets anymore. He doesn't linger though, doesn't get himself off, because he doesn't have the time for that sort of thing when he's doing all the house are on his own.

The kids’ needs for breakfast trumps all his own needs. He pauses a moment before the door to wipe away his lonely face before going to take care of his children.

***

John creeks open the door to Sherlock's room. Greg gets up late, and Mycroft is gone again. Sherlock doesn't sleep deeply, something left over from his time with his sister. Sherlock sits up in bed when he hears the door open, and John gives him a gentle smile. Sherlock scootches closer to the wall, and then lifts the blanket to invite his boyfriend into bed. John slips in, and Sherlock wraps the blanket around the both of them.

"Good morning," John whispers, giving Sherlock a kiss.

Sherlock covers his own mouth when they pull away from the kiss. "It's not fair that you always have cleaned teeth when you come into my room."

"To be fair, you could get up, and clean your teeth and then sneak into my room before Greg gets up."

"You're better at it than I am," Sherlock murmurs, pulling John closer to him. "God, you've got to get closer to me."

John tries to obey his command, but he's already flush against the other teenager. "Sorry. Until you grow a kangaroo pouch, I think this is the closest we can get."

"Marsupials have all the fun," Sherlock says, causing John to collapse laughing against Sherlock's neck. When he catches his breath, John starts to kiss Sherlock, and Sherlock lets out a happy sigh.

Sherlock remembers when he first started dating John how he’d been worried that John would want to have sex before Sherlock wanted to. It's not something that ever crosses his mind now. He and John are always of one accord. He can read John's mind. He's reading it right now. There is a weight on John.

Sherlock leans forward, and kisses along John's chin in a way which makes the goosepimples rise on his face. "What's wrong?"

John shakes his head, just barely, enough for Sherlock to feel it, but not enough to shake him free.

"John, tell me what you need," Sherlock pleads.

"I'm nearly sixteen," John says.

Sherlock pulls away, trying to understand the significance.

"You can leave home when you're sixteen if you want to."

"Oh!" Sherlock says with a grin. "You won't have to go into foster care anymore if something happens with your dad." Then he frowns. "Why are you sad about it?"

"I don't have anywhere to go but home. I need to get a job, and..." John begins.

Sherlock shakes his head at him. "What are you talking about? Greg's not going to start charging you rent out of the blue just because it's the anniversary of the day you were born."

"Sherlock, I can't just move into your house."

"Of course you can! You spend more time here anyway."

"You don't get to decide whether I move in or not," John says, pulling Sherlock against him again. "This isn't your flat. It's barely even your brother's flat with how often he's gone. I can't just invite myself to live with Greg. That's not how it works."

"He wants you here. He does," Sherlock insists. "And I know he'd do just about anything to protect you from your dad. In fact, he probably just assumed you were moving in. We'll just do the make the bacon thing, and ask him."

"I can't just ask him to let me live with him, Sherlock. That's not the way life works! It has to be his idea, or it doesn't count."

"That's silly," Sherlock says. "He's not going to think to ask you unless we at least leave him some hints. I'm sure he hasn't even thought about what your age means."

"Look, Sherlock, it is what it is, okay? And Greg has enough going on right now with Mycroft sleeping somewhere else just about all the time..."

"You make it sound like he's cheating on Greg when you say it like that. He's just working," Sherlock objects.

"Oh, Sherlock," John says with pity clear in his voice. "There isn't such a thing as a job that causes you to sleep away more than you sleep at home."

Sherlock pulls as much distance as he can between him and John, but it's barely any distance at all smushed as he’s against the wall in a bed made for one. "You think my brother is cheating on Greg."

"Yeah, I think that's pretty clear," John replies.

"You think my brother has left this family just so he can sleep with a stranger," Sherlock says, with his voice shaking.

"Jesus, you're so fucking naive, and now you're acting like it's my fault, just 'cause I'm the messenger," John complains.

"Mycroft wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't leave me," Sherlock repeats.

John puts his hand on Sherlock's hip. "Well, I'm not going anywhere."

“You just said you were!" Sherlock huffs.

"Well, how about this?" John says "I'll get a job and a flat and when you turn sixteen you can come and live with me there, yeah? Might be for the best what with your brother taking off on you. Then Greg will just have Ollie to look after, and he'll be able to make more of a clean break from your brother. He deserves that at least after everything he's done for us."

Sherlock lays down again, half on John, and pulling him impossibly closer. "What does it say about me that my sister is a murder, and my brother is the sort of person who cheats on his boyfriend and abandons his family?"

"I hope it doesn't say anything," John mutters. "Because if biological family is destiny I am far more doomed than you."

Sherlock kisses his forehead. "You're a good person, John Watson. That is something that I have never doubted."

They hold each other in silence for a few more minutes before John whispers, "Greg will be up soon." He leaves Sherlock with one more kiss on his lips.

Sherlock lays on the bed staring up at the ceiling feeling as if nothing in his life makes any sense anymore.

Mycroft was the brother who took him in when he didn't have to. He was all the safety and security that Sherlock had ever known. Sherlock loved John, and he would rather live in some tiny studio apartment with him than in his brother's flat without him, and without Mycroft too as it were.

John as his lifeline, and Sherlock was terrified by the idea of being without him.

Anyway, he doesn't turn sixteen for nine and a half months, and John will be sixteen in two months. John's plan meant that all those days in between would not involve John sneaking into his bed for kisses and cuddles. Even if John came over, it wouldn't be like now where John spent more time here than at his parent's house. There wouldn't be as much tea and shared homework, and just those silent minutes that don't have any point apart from people being able to be together. They would have to go out of their way to see each other, and no one ever went out of their way to see Sherlock.

Mycroft certainly didn't. Not anymore.

The idea of Mycroft cheating on Greg is so terrible that Sherlock literally curls into the fetal position at the thought of it. Greg is a good guy. Why would Mycroft do that? How could someone else equal both Greg and all the rest of his family? Unless all the kids were a subtracting force instead of an addition for him.

Sherlock had really believed that his brother loved him, that his brother didn't mind him coming to live with him. But of course his brother minds! His brother is only 22, and what 22-year-old gay man wants to raise children? Or stay with their first boyfriend forever? Mycroft had been very clear about the fact that he didn’t want to get married, and it is very clear now that that had been a sign. It’s even possible that being saddled with an instant family is part of the reason that things aren't working out between him and Greg. Maybe if Sherlock had never come to live with his brother Mycroft would still be sleeping next to Greg right now. Sherlock hates the thought that he might be part of the reason that Greg is being treated so terribly. Greg deserves better.

Sherlock lets out a sigh, and then a giant stretch before moving to use the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg is holding out hope that Mycroft is going to meet them at the reform school that Eurus has been attending for a little over a year now. He does that sometimes, less now than when he had in the beginning. For the first two months of his new job Mycroft had never missed the two weekly visits with his sister, but Greg is having trouble remembering the last time that Mycroft has actually popped in. He is no longer certain whether or not his hope is reasonable.

Oliver takes his hand, and Greg gives him a smile. The little boy is altogether too perceptive for his own good, and Greg has no doubt that this hand holding is a lot more about the boy offering Greg comfort than taking some for himself.

"Sir, is her guardian going to be joining us today?" the guard asks as they arrive.

"I don't think so, no," Greg says, being careful not to let his smile waver.

"She's moved up on the privilege tier, and will soon be eligible for weekend furloughs, but we’ll need her guardian's approval for that."

Greg feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. When Eurus was moved to this facility almost a year ago, he knew that her transitioning to living with them gradually was a possibility, but honestly he hadn't really expected it, and especially so soon. "She's ready for that already?"

"It’s a gradual release. You start with taking her home for four hours, then eight, then one day, and then eventually a release from Friday afternoon to Monday morning. We do the whole thing very gradually, testing the waters as it were. Of course it's critical to get any children who are able to be integrated back into society in there as early as possible. Helps with lifetime outcomes. But we want to make sure the family is comfortable with it, particularly in cases such as yours where members of your family have been the victim of trauma inflicted by the person in question."

"We appreciate that," Greg says with a wide smile that only his family can recognize as one that only breaks out when he is stressed. "Of course we'll have to have some discussions and planning as a family. But we’re so excited she is doing that well! She’s come a long way in such a short amount of time."

"She really has," the guard agrees.

In the hallway between this discussion and Eurus's room Greg gives a glance toward Sherlock, clearly checking to see how he is feeling about everything. Sherlock's face gives away nothing, but John is clearly as concerned about Sherlock as Greg is.

"Eurus, congratulations on earning your weekend privileges," Greg says warmly.

"So four hours this Saturday?" she asks.

"Honey, actually I'm working this Saturday," Greg says sadly.

"That's okay. Mycroft has to be the official guardian anyway."

"Oh, honey," Greg says sadly. "I don't know if Mycroft has the day off or not either. You can't come home with us unless Mycroft is there? That’s…going to make things much more complicated."

"What do you mean?" Eurus asks, blinking in concern.

"Mycroft works all the time," Oliver says sadly.

"He doesn't come home many nights," John says with bitterness in his voice.

"Mycroft broke up with you?" Eurus says with concern.

"No," Greg says with a sigh. "He's just working hard right now. But when he finds out that you need him to be there to come home with us, I'm sure he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. So, you don't worry about it. You just feel really proud about what you’ve accomplished. I can't believe how far you've come in the past year and a half! Now, tell me about what has been going on in your life."

Eurus does explain her week, but not before Oliver jumps in to talk about a school project that he'd gotten to do that involved matchbox cars.

***

Sherlock takes deep breaths trying to calm himself as they walk out of Eurus’s reform school. It's going to be okay he tells himself. The school wouldn't let her leave unless they were sure she’s safe. Greg wouldn't let her do it if it wasn't okay. It might not even happen. Mycroft might not be able to be home enough for it. He's been in a room with her for two hours a week for more than a year now, so what was four hours at home? He could do this.

"What do you think about all of this, Sherlock?" Greg asks as the family sets off to walk toward the metro station.

"It's fine," Sherlock lies.

Greg sighs. "Look, if you don't want to do this, but don't want her to know that you’re the reason it doesn’t happen, we can always blame Mycroft's job. You’re in control here Sherlock. She tortured you. You were in the house when she killed your parents. Our flat, that is your home, and you do not have to take her home with you. Okay?"

Sherlock nods. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," Greg says, quickening his steps to give the boy a side hug.

"I really don't think she is going to hurt me or anyone else now. It would be easy to put off if I really thought she was a threat to us. But I don't."

"I get that," Greg says with a smile. "For the record it wouldn't be up to you if I thought she was a threat. It would be me saying no. But I don't want you to think that your fears are not enough to justify a no, okay? She tortured you when the two of you were kids, and you are in no way obligated to forgive that."

"It's not like I am still mad at her, or holding some kind of a grudge," Sherlock argues. "I am just…afraid of being in a room with her."

"That's valid too. That’s more than enough for you to say no," Greg encourages.

"I'm not saying no," Sherlock argues. "I still want to think about it because I don't want my whole life to be run by fear."

"Not living with someone who hurt you is very different from living in fear," Greg says as the family starts to march down the stairs of the metro. "But take your time making your decision."

John reaches out and takes Sherlock's hand in his with a shy look.

Sherlock normally hates it when there is any sort of public display of affection between them, but right now it is exactly what Sherlock needs, and he marvels that John was somehow capable of knowing that.

"How about you two? Ollie and John? It's your home too, and if either of you didn't want to have a murderer come into it that would be valid as well."

A stranger glares at them, having overheard this last sentence.

"I'm okay with it," Oliver says quietly, looking back over his shoulder as they pass the angry stranger.

"It's not really my home," John mutters.

"Of course it is!" Sherlock objects before Greg has a chance to.

"You're part of this family, John, and while you've never endured abuse from Eurus, you've been through your fair share of things as well. You've got a perfect right to say no to Eurus as well,” Greg adds.

"I'll go with whatever Sherlock says," John says, giving the hand which still hangs between them a bit of a squeeze.

"How are things with you, John?" Greg asks in concern, as they all settle down on a seat in the metro. "You've been painfully quiet lately. Is anything wrong?"

John shakes his head, and Sherlock huffs at him in frustration something that Greg doesn’t miss. "You've been staying at your house more often lately. Is something bad happening at home?" Greg asks

John drops Sherlock’s hand, and Sherlock glares at him in a way which leads Greg to believe that he deduced the situation correctly. "You want to talk about it?" Greg hoots a glance toward Oliver. "We could do it when there are not little ears around if that would be better for you."

"Everything is fine," John says. "I'm just looking at getting a job actually, and Sherlock is a little pouty about the fact that I won't be able to spend as much time with him when I do."

Sherlock shoots John another dirty look. "You're making me sound like a whiny baby when actually my request is perfectly reasonable."

"I think it's only natural that John would want to get a bit of independence. I could help you find something," Greg offers.

"No, I'd rather do it on my own," John says.

"Okay, but you'd be surprised how few people actually do anything on their own. The world is hard enough as it is, and you could let me ease your way a bit."

John gives him a smile. "I'll try it first, and see how it goes."

"Right, but I don't want you to be one of those teenagers who dives into work so much their schooling suffers, mind? You find somewhere that will take you for just a few hours. You’re finishing school, and this is not to get in the way of that," Greg says firmly.

John looks down in an attempt to hide his smile. It’s nice to be parented. That’s his favorite thing about living at the Holmes's house actually.

"'Course this means that John won't be able to do your chores anymore, Sherlock. You're going to pick up the slack on your own," Greg scolds.

"You knew I was doing that, and you didn't do anything to stop me?" John says, sounding more than a little bit hurt.

"It would be a hell of a lot easier to stop a freight train with a toothpick than it would be to stop you from bending over backwards to make Sherlock happy," Greg says with a grin. "Even though the two of you are apparently in a fight."

John extends his hand again, and Sherlock takes it before bashfully looking out of the window of the subway at the wall which is passing rapidly past.

When John stopped doing Sherlock's chores in order to look for work, it just resulted in the chores not getting done, until at last, Greg gave in and went to do something about the high level of biohazard his home was quickly becoming.

He opens up the medicine cabinet to see if the mysterious sticky substance has spread there as well. A box of condoms falls out into the sink, and when he picks them up, they are light. He peaks inside to see that there is only one remaining.

His heart sinks. He should have been checking this more often. Somehow, he would have thought he would know if this was happening right under his nose.

Anyway, it could be worse. He'd had a discussion with them to prepare them, and they were clearly being safe. Wasn't that his goal for them? He discovered much to his annoyance that his actual goal was to let them grow up slowly, and that didn't seem like much of a possibility now. They were having sex, and John was getting a job.

In a few years, John and Sherlock would be gone, and it would just be him and Ollie. Then later, just him. He thought he'd found his family young, and for a brief period he had been so unbelievably happy. But it couldn't last forever of course. He should have known.

He wonders if he should bring it up with them, try to keep the lines of communication that they had slammed shut open. Then he thinks about how he would have felt if his parents had tried to have a conversation with him about sex and decides that it would be better for everyone involved if he just quietly replaced their supplies. He'll have to look now and again in the future to make sure they aren't running low although he dreads the thought that that is going to mean he'll know more about the frequency of their sex life than he'd really like too. But they are almost out, so it's clear that they are unlikely to get more supplies any other way.

He puts them back and returns to scrubbing down the bathroom, wondering how the hell Sherlock is ever going to be able to make it on his own if this level of filth is not something that alarms him.

***

There is certainly a part of Sherlock that feels bad about what he is doing. After all, the only reason he has enough money to buy the drugs was because Mycroft had turned his trust over to him a few months ago, saying that he might as well start learning how to manage money at his age because it wasn't going to get any easier with time.

But the feeling that he was disappointing his brother is just one amongst a lot of feelings. The feeling that his brother had left his entire family (including Sherlock), the feeling that John was going to leave him too, the feeling of utter panic that Eurus is going to come and live with them. He was doing this to make the feeling stop, to keep them from completely overwhelming him.

"How do you take it?" he asks the dealer.

"Jesus, you need a fucking tutorial?" The dealer groans.

"If I take it wrong and hurt myself or waste it, you'll be losing a customer," Sherlock points out.

"All right, look, just this once, I'll show ya," the man says, going through the steps.

Sherlock follows his lead, and suddenly he feels like he is floating. Guilt over the drugs is just one more emotion that is not haunting him anymore. Honestly, if he had known it was this easy Sherlock would have started years ago. He has just been ignorantly feeling these things all this time never knowing there was a much simpler way.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ollie, doesn't your teacher send home folders on Fridays?" Greg asks.

Ollie nods.

"Go get it for me, okay? I want to find out what you've done and maybe I’ll actually remember to sign this week," Greg says with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Ollie just looks at him and worries his lip.

"What's wrong? Is there something in it that you aren't particularly proud to show me?" Greg asks.

Ollie starts to shake his head, but then halfway through he turns it into a nod,” Not really.”

"You forgot it?" Greg asks.

Oliver nods his head.

"Okay, yeah, that happens to all of us sometimes. Just make sure to bring it to me on Monday."

Oliver still looks distraught. "You don't understand. I don't think that I just forgot it. I think I probably lost it. The teacher warned me a hundred times to remember to bring it home. I was holding it when I got on the subway with Sherlock and John. I don't know what might have happened to it after that."

"Well, if you left it on the subway I think it's pretty safe to assume that it’s gone forever, Ollie, but that happens. To all of us from time to time."

"It happens to me a lot more often than it happens to other people," Oliver pouts. "It doesn't even really matter, because even if I had remembered to bring the folder to you it would have just been full of poor marks."

"If you're struggling in school we need to address that. I'll help you if I can, but honestly, I was pants at most subjects. I'm sure that Sherlock or John can explain whatever you need to know, and if they can't, well, then we'll just hire a tutor that can. We'll solve this problem now that we know it exists," Greg says with a comforting smile.

"It's not one thing that I don't understand," Oliver objects. "It's everything! And the not understanding isn't even the main problem. I lose things, or forget to hand them in, or don't follow directions, and do something different than was asked, and lose all my points. I don't think a tutor could help with any of that."

"Oh," Greg says, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "Yeah, probably not."

"See?" Oliver sniffs in defeat.

"But there are ways to help with all of that. I don't know them right now, but I'll get it figured out. You're not the first person who struggles with these things, Ollie, and there are people who have figured out lots of ways of making it easier for those who do."

"Really?" he asks hopefully.

"Of course," Greg says. "But first things first. Do you have any homework tonight that I can help you with?"

Oliver shakes his head, and then he goes for a much more honest shrug.

"Yeah, 'course I didn't think about how that might not be the easiest question in the world to answer, did I? Can you bring me your backpack over, and we'll try to get it sorted between the two of us?"

Oliver nods with a grateful smile and hustles off. While Greg waits for the child to return, he desperately tries to find a time in his already busy week when he can go to the bookshop and find some sort of reference materials that will help him figure out how to help Oliver. He wonders how Mycroft will react when he finds out. Would he already have all sorts of ways to help the boy stored up in that enormous brain of his? Or would he be simply shocked that the boy was not as clever as his own blood and let Oliver see that, even if he wasn't trying to hurt the boy?

Greg is finding that the longer Mycroft stays away, the less kind he gets in his imaginings of what it would be like if Mycroft were here. Perhaps Greg is just trying to protect himself. Convince himself that as bad as it is to be a single parent it would be so much worse to have Mycroft here with him.

Too bad he isn't believing a word of it.

Oliver comes back and dumps a very messy backpack out at Greg's feet. "Okay," Greg says with a resigned smile. "Let's get to work then.”

***

Greg awakes to a pressure on his lips, and he swings the source to the ground. The 'oof' that comes from the floor is familiar, and Greg leans over the edge of the bed to apologize. "Sorry. I wasn't awake enough to recognize you."

"Yeah, I suppose it's a bit of a comfort to know that you would defend your honor so strongly against any oncomers," Mycroft teases with one hand going to his head.

"I hurt you. Seriously hurt you," Greg says with concern.

"No, of course not," Mycroft says, pulling his hand away.

Greg helps him up on the bed, and then gives a closer look to the back of his head. "Mycroft, there are stitches back here!"

"Did we pop them open?" Mycroft asks in concern.

Greg studies them a moment, and then says, "No. Mycroft when did you get stitches on your head?"

"It was days ago, and if they haven't opened up then you should stop worrying about them. They are going to be out in a couple of days anyhow."

"You should have called me when it happened. Stitches hurt, and I would have loved to have been there for you."

"It was no big deal. Certainly nothing that justified disturbing you at work," Mycroft says with a shrug.

"You should let me be the judge of what is worth disturbing me at work," Greg says, steel creeping into his tone. "And when my partner is hurt that is more than enough cause.”

"I was afraid you would ask too many questions. You know that I can't tell you about the nature of my work."

"Yeah, well, I'm not asking questions now, and even if I can't know how you got hurt, I'd at least like to know that you did."

Mycroft's face twists a little. "Honey...I was in another country at the time. There was no way for you to be there when the stitches were put in place."

Greg swallows. Here was the uncomfortable truth. When Mycroft was away from him Greg felt angry and abandoned, but he could never hold on to that feeling when Mycroft was right in front of him. The only feeling that survived then was worry.

"So, you're saying that if you were seriously injured, I would only know about it if you happened to survive." 

Mycroft moves in for a kiss which was no doubt conceived as a distraction and Greg pushes him away again. "I thought you said that one of our previous problems was that you didn't know who I was. I made sure that you knew who I was before I tried to kiss you again," Mycroft objects, looking as wounded by the gentle push as he might have been by a slap.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about the knowing you bit. I haven't seen you in a week and a half and you suddenly pop in and start trying to kiss me."

"I missed you," Mycroft says, quiet honesty in his voice.

"I missed you too," Greg says. "But that doesn't mean I missed your kisses or wherever the kiss was headed. That's just a tiny part of you and what we have together, and it's not the most important part. Not to me."

"Not to me either," Mycroft says. "But it is about the only part that can be done in the middle of the night."

Greg pulls him close. "What about the cuddling? Eh? Maybe do a bit of catching up before sleep unless… you're about to head back." The last words contain far more honest pain than he meant them to. He wishes he could suck them back up inside of himself, but the words stubbornly hang in the air between them.

"I've got three days off now," Mycroft says with a pleased-sounding voice as he snuggles closer to Greg. "I've negotiated at least a weekend long break between each of my missions."

"So, what does that mean then? Do I get to see my husband three days out of ever twenty?" Greg asks sarcastically.

"Each time that I've been able to come home in the last half of a year has been between missions."

"I don't even know how many times that is," Greg says.

Mycroft pulls him closer, "Not enough. I know that. I'm trying though. I know I have to be near my family more, especially considering...."

"What?" Greg pulls away.

"We discussed adopting another child, and I think something has fallen into our laps at it were. Oliver's mother is having another baby. She's been declared unfit enough that the baby will be taken from her the moment that it is born."

"Didn't you hear me when I said that I did not want to parent a baby? And that was back when I thought you were going to be doing half of the parenting."

"I will be doing half of the parenting," Mycroft says, "I just told you that I opened up my schedule."

"No," Greg says firmly. "I am pretty sure that we are not going to adopt an additional child until you prove that you are willing to start parenting the ones we have again. End of discussion." He says rolling away.

"So... we can't even cuddle now?" Mycroft's voice sounds broken.

Greg sighs and rolls over, taking Mycroft in his arms again. "Mycroft, I understand why you want this; I do. And maybe I’m being unfair to Ollie by not even considering it, but do you even see it from my point of view?"

Greg feels Mycroft's chin quiver against his chest. "You stopped loving me because I am a terrible father."

"What?" Greg says, pulling away enough so he can look Mycroft in the face. The other man is doing everything in order to avoid making eye contact. "No, sweetie. I didn't stop loving you. Let's be clear about that. I was pissed at you. There are absolutely going to be times where I get pissed at you, and I don't want to have sex or cuddle you. But that is never ever going to mean that I stopped loving you. Do you hear me when I say that?"

Mycroft nods.

"Okay, next thing to get straight," Greg says firmly. "I never, ever said that you were a bad father. I would never say that! You’re amazing. When you’re here. But the kids missed you, and I've missed you, and I want you here more."

"I was trying to take care of you," Mycroft argues.

"I know, baby," Greg says kissing his forehead. "But the money isn't what we need the most. We need you here doing dishes, and checking homework, and making those kids feel loved. Okay? We still love you. Jesus, it would be easier if we didn't, but you've really hurt everyone in this family by being gone this much, and you're going to have to make it right before we even talk about expanding the family. Understand?"

Mycroft nods. "Can you make me a list of all the things that I have to do to make it better? I'm sure there’s more."

"No," Greg pulls away. "Now you're making it transactional. It doesn't work like that. I'm not giving you a chore list so that once you've done the chores, I'll forgive you and it's all better. The human heart doesn't work like that. It's messy, and complicated. You've just got to be a parent, be a partner. That will help, and at some point, we're going to be okay again."

Mycroft buries himself in Greg's chest again, and Greg runs his hand across the other man's back, already starting to feel his heart melt as Mycroft says, "I was scared. I thought you'd stopped loving me, and it was all my fault."

"Well, I didn't," Greg says with a soft chuckle that comforts Mycroft more than anything else could do. "It doesn't work like that. My love is so big that it would take a long time for it to fade."

"But I could do some things that are so consequential you'd stop loving me?" Mycroft says with alarm, pulling away from Greg so that he can study the other mans' face.

"Yeah, but they’d have to be pretty big," Greg says.

Mycroft stares at him with pale, startled eyes. "Can you tell me what they are? I don't want to do them by accident and lose you."

Greg sighs. "If you physically hurt one of the kids on purpose, that'd be a deal breaker. Cheating-if it was once, you'd have a chance, more than once no way in hell. This checking out, and not being around would end us if it keeps going on too long. I don't think there’s anything else, but I reserve the right to change my mind if something big comes up between us."

Mycroft stares at him for a while. "What if I killed someone?"

Greg blinks at him in surprise. Mycroft still looks young for his age. It's probably true that a great many of the people who’d kill someone have already done it by the time they reach Mycroft's 22 years, but he still feels like Mycroft is too young to be having this conversation with. "I think I'd assume that you were doing the right thing unless I had a good reason to think you didn't."

Mycroft's whole body goes limp with relief, and Greg pulls him close. "I'm sorry, baby. I've been so hard on you, and I didn't really understand all that you were going through this week. I should have been gentler with you. I'm really sorry I wasn't."

"I can't tell you," Mycroft says.

"I know, and you didn't. I'm here for you," Greg says. "You're okay. You're a good person. I know you are a good person."

"I don't know that," Mycroft murmurs. "Not anymore. I know that I save people by doing what I do, but that's not at all the same as me unequivocally knowing that I am doing the right thing."

Greg sighs, carefully putting the words together in a way that is the least likely to offend the man before him. "Honey, listen. Killing someone to save others...that's morally okay. I t's a choice that I might be making one day at my own job, although I haven't been anywhere close. But it's still a weight. Maybe there are parts of your job you enjoy so much that you will happily bear that weight in order to have the good parts. But maybe the weight is just too much, and you don't want to do that anymore. That would still be okay. It’d be more than okay."

"No, it wouldn't," Mycroft says, pulling away, a look of confusion clear on his face. "I can't just quit my job."

"Of course you can. You don't have to. I'm not saying that," Greg says quickly. "Again, I'm just going off the fact that you’re miserable right now and it's because of your job. You need to know that you don't have to stay unless you want to, okay? You could get a different job, one that you'd like better. One that would take less time and cause less stress."

Mycroft shakes his head. "I don't think...I don't think I could get another job very easily, and even if I did there would be no guarantee that I could keep it very long. I've made myself pretty indispensable where I’m at, and I really need that job security."

"What on earth makes you think that you'd get fired if you were working a different job?" Greg says.

Mycroft sits up pulling away from him. "You...don't see me like everyone else does. I don't know why, and I’m terrified that one day it's going to stop. Those rose-colored glasses you see me through are just going to fall off of your eyes, and you'll realize that I'm nothing special. I'm just some awkward, overweight, below average kid who never understands a conversation until two days later when the clearly obvious meaning slaps me over the head."

Greg sits up, and grabs Mycroft. He pushes him against the mattress, and then lays down over him squishing him more than would be comfortable for most people. He kisses along Mycroft's neck, and then he says, "Don't you ever talk about the man I love like that again."

"It's...true, and I don't know why you can't see it."

"Cause I've got eyes, and anyone who sees you like that, including yourself, is just a complete and utter idiot. Our kids don't see you like that, and neither do our friends..."

"Your friends," Mycroft corrects.

"Okay, fine all the more reason for them not to see you positively, and yet they do. My point is anyone who gets to know you thinks you're pretty amazing, and it sounds like that includes these mysterious people you work for. You said you've made yourself indispensable. That means that you have a lot of value for them. If you made the jump and went somewhere else the people at the new place would see that same value pretty quickly too."

"You don't know that. I could lose this job and not be able to get another one."

"Okay," Greg says.

Mycroft snorts in annoyance.

"No, seriously," Greg says. "If you didn't have a job our family would be fine. True, I couldn't keep us in this flat on my salary, but I think it would take quite a few years to work our way out of your inheritance. And if worse came to worse we could get a smaller place where the kids would have to share rooms, and we’d cut down on a few of the luxuries in our lives, and I could take care of us. I would MUCH rather do that then have you miserable or doubting yourself. The only reason I want you to keep working the job that you have now is if it really makes you happy. So...does it?"

Mycroft pauses for a long while trying to find words that Greg would believe, and which would also allow him to win the conversation. He sighs. "I'm not ready to quit my job at this time, but I am rather relieved that you would be willing to support me if I were unable to."

"'Course," Greg says, kissing Mycroft’s neck. "You understand that your value to this family doesn't come from the numbers on your paycheck. It comes from you-your very existence. Never forget that."

Mycroft doesn't believe it, but it comforts him that Greg is willing to say it. He feels like he might believe it one day, and what a day that will be.

"I love you," he whispers into Greg's neck.

"I love you too, more than you can ever imagine. God, I love you so much it feels like I’m going to burst apart and combust," Greg mutters.

"Is it...Is it rude if I ask if you're position on sex tonight has changed?" Mycroft asks tentatively.

"Not rude, and I'm a hell of a lot more willing than I was earlier, but honestly I'd rather just hold you until we fall asleep. And then see if we can wake up early enough in the morning..."

"I'll try to wake you up in a way that doesn't result in me getting smacked to the ground," Mycroft jokes.

"You know I would never hurt you on purpose, right?" Greg says seriously. "And that if I was hurting you on purpose you shouldn't put up with it." He looks concerned at Mycroft's stitches. "Maybe you shouldn't put up with it anyway."

"I won't surprise you again," Mycroft says. "You've gotten unused to having someone in the bed with you, and it's my job to change that."

"By the way," Mycroft says as they lay together for a bit, "I always check on all the kids before I go to bed, and John wasn't there. Is that something that we should be worried about?"

"He's been staying at his folk's place more often. Especially when he works late."

"He has a job?" Mycroft asks in shock.

"Yeah, afternoons at a gas station. I think he's working too much myself, but I've told him as much, and it had no effect. I'm going to let it play out, and not force the issue unless his grades start to slip."

"That's probably wise."

"Speaking of grades, Oliver is really struggling. Since you have a couple of days off it would be a huge help if you started researching what you can do with someone who struggles staying organized and losing things. He really wants to do well, but he just doesn't even know where to begin," Greg says sadly.

"Right, yeah. I'll make a trip to the library. Is there anything else I could get done today?"

"I'm not going to make you a list or anything, but the house is a bit of a mess. I'm afraid I've been neglecting it a bit. Whatever attention you can give Sherlock before or after school wouldn't go astray because he is really not doing well with the fact that John is gone a lot more than he was before he got the job."

Mycroft nods, and then Greg lets out the one long sigh that always signals that he was about to fall into deep sleep. Even though Mycroft has gotten very little sleep for weeks now, he lays there awake looking at his sleeping partner for a long time. He'd hurt Greg by not being around, and Greg wanted him to quit his job.

What he told Greg about his reason for not wanting to quit his job was the truth, but there was also more to the story. What Mycroft does is important. There is no one else who can do it quite like he does. Killing people is terrible, but Mycroft has seen other spies when they've done it. He can cope better than they can. The thing that is wrong with him makes it so that it's less horrific for him. And he's also just better at it. He studied facial expressions carefully in order to learn how to make them properly, and he could read the real expression beneath someone's lies. If he didn't do this job British citizens would die, and so it would be selfish to just do what he wanted instead of what the world needed.

Mycroft closes his eyes to the dark, feeling the warmth of the man he loves next to


	4. Chapter 4

Greg wakes up to the feeling of someone snuggled against him. "Mmm," he hums. "You leave us enough time?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "I've already prepared myself."

It takes Greg's half-awake brain a couple of seconds to catch up with what has just been said. He sits up and shakes himself. "Oh, so we're doing something new today? You're sure?"

"Yes," Mycroft says. "I have been thinking about it quite a bit recently, particularly when I was injured."

"Okay." Greg smiles at him. "I just wanted to be sure that it wasn't some misguided attempt to 'be a good partner', but if it's actually something that you've been longing for...well, then, it's something I've been longing for as well."

Mycroft lifts his hand to remove Greg's shirt, and it shakes a little. Greg takes the hand in his and gives the fingertips a light kiss. Then he pulls off his own clothes as quickly as possible. Mycroft wasn't joking about being ready for him. He's already gotten out of all of his clothes, and when Greg rolls Mycroft underneath him, he can feel his hardness.

None the less Greg kisses down his body, giving some attention to that hardness before fingering his hole.

"I told you I was prepared," Mycroft says, his voice sounding tense and awkward.

"Sorry. It's not that I was doubting you, but it was...well, yeah, I was doubting you, because you've never done this before, and I don't want you to underprepare, and end up really sore."

Mycroft scoots away from him. "Please don't."

"Oh, God, honey!" Greg says scooting up until their faces are even. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening to what you were very clearly saying."

"It's okay," Mycroft says.

"No, it's not. I fucked up big time there, and I'm really sorry. Are we continuing or not?"

"Of course we are continuing," Mycroft says in clear annoyance.

"Okay," Greg says, kissing his lover, and teasing him with the briefest of contacts with their lengths.

"Please," Mycroft pleads before too long. Then Greg moves between his partner's legs, and carefully aims himself without touching his partner again. He slides just a centimeter in to begin with.

"Okay?" he asks.

"I don't really know yet? You're not really far enough in for it to really feel like much."

"Okay," Greg says, kissing Mycroft’s neck until his patience gives way to lust again. Then he begins to move. Tiny slow thrusts, each one ending with him a bit deeper and sitting there until his partner has the time to adjust.

Greg plays with Mycroft's hair as they move together, being careful not to get near his stitches.

"You treat me like I’m made of glass," Mycroft whispers with reproach.

"No," Greg corrects. "You are much more precious than a glass figurine."

"But not as breakable," Mycroft urges, grabbing onto Greg's butt cheeks in an attempt to urge him to pick up the speed.

"Hey, I don't want to hurt you on our first time like this, okay? There will be plenty of times for speed when your body is used to it."

Mycroft shifts a little. "It doesn't...feel like anything right now...just sort of stuffed and weird."

"You want me to stop?" Greg says, leaning away from him.

"No, I want you to see if going harder makes it feel right."

"Okay," Greg says. He's scared of hurting Mycroft, but, damn it, the man is old enough to be aware of the risks he's taking. It feels unbelievably good to be moving in his lover's slick, tight interior at a quick pace. "Feel better?" he grunts out.

"Yeah, much," Mycroft says. "But, are you aiming?"

Greg chuckles. "I'm not deep enough to hit that yet, hun. You're really tight, can you try to relax?"

"Okay, then be still for a bit," Mycroft says.

Greg waits a moment, then sinks in as far as he can. On impulse he rolls Mycroft on top of him. Mycroft giggles, and rests his head in the crook of Greg's neck. "God, with anyone else I'd be a nervous wreck, but with you, I don’t worry about things going perfect because I know you’re going to make them good for me even if they are not perfect.”

Greg runs his hands across his lover's back in a squiggly pattern that they've already discovered has the effect of calming him down.

"I love you," Mycroft whispers.

"Always and forever, I love you," Greg whispers back. "I meant those vows when I said them up at the altar."

Mycroft rolls Greg under himself again, but he has far less skill at it than Greg did, so Greg slips out. Greg takes the chance to lube himself up a bit more. "I'm not doubting your skill darling, but if you want this fast, I am going to do everything within my power to make sure that you are taken care of."

He slides into Mycroft much deeper and tries a few experimental jabs to find his prostate. He wishes he could try to find it with his fingers first, but he knows better than to ask after seeing how uncomfortable Mycroft was with that before.

"Oh!" Mycroft suddenly exclaims.

"I got it huh?" Greg asks with a cocky smile on his face.

"Yeah, you did," Mycroft says looking nothing short of distressed.

"Not a good sensation, then," Greg says, beginning to pull out of him.

"No," Mycroft says. "It's just...new...I mean, it surprised me a bit. I'm not really sure if it's good or not yet."

"Okay. Do you want more?" Greg asks, kissing Mycroft’s nose.

"Yeah, but...maybe a count off so I know it's coming. I know that sounds ridiculous, but that way I have a much better chance of actually being able to process it."

"Okay? What should I count to?" Greg asks.

"Better make it three. I only gave us forty-four minutes for the sex and the showers," Mycroft says seriously.

Greg chuckles, and counts off before giving a light nudge to the prostate again.

"How was that?"

"I like it," Mycroft says, but there is still a touch of a question in his voice.

"Okay, sweetheart," Greg says, counting down before the next few run ins.

"Yeah, that's good. You can stop counting now," Mycroft says, pulling his knees up to give Greg better access.

Greg goes at it in earnest now, and when he feels himself getting close to tipping over the edge, he reaches out to touch his partner in order to bring him along with him.

"No," Mycroft says, making a clumsy attempt to bat his hand away but missing. "Too much."

"You probably won't come without it," Greg warns.

"We'll worry about that later," Mycroft says.

Greg gives a little kiss to his neck. "All right then. Am I going to be coming inside of you?”

"Please," Mycroft returns.

And Greg obeys.

Mycroft is still overstimulated afterward and gets himself off with long slow strokes.

"Can't I help?" Greg asks.

"It’s easier to do it myself than explain to you how fast I can stand," Mycroft says lazily. "But you'd better get into the shower if we have any hope of getting done on time. There is no reason to wait around for me."

Greg grins at his partner and gets up to shower, not bothering to explain why he’d want to stick around for the show. He's pretty sure that no one else would ever understand what he and Mycroft have, but he also knows without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn't want to trade it for anything else in the world.

***

"You're here!" Oliver says, wrapping his arms around Mycroft as he comes out of his bedroom.

"Yeah," Mycroft says, picking up the almost seven-year-old and giving him a bit of a swing back and forth in the air. Mycroft has gotten a lot stronger since starting his new job, and Greg's stomach sinks a little bit when he thinks about the reasons behind it. When he met a shy, timid, barely-out-of-the-teenage-years Mycroft he'd never imagined he'd be getting the strong and sometimes murderous man before him a little more than a year later.

"Sherlock," Mycroft says, extending his arm to his brother when Ollie finally lets him out of the hug. Sherlock shifts his shoulders to avoid the hug.

"What's wrong?" Mycroft asks in concern. Sherlock just shakes his head.

"I made you breakfast," Mycroft says, giving a tilt of his head towards the kitchen.

"I'm sure it's not as good as Greg's," Sherlock mutters.

"Hey," Greg scolds. "Why are you being so rude to your brother?"

"Gregory, he's allowed to be mad at me. I haven't been around lately, and just because you've forgiven me doesn't mean he has to. I'm going to be home for three days now," Mycroft tells the children.

"So, you're leaving again, and he still took you back?" Sherlock asks with a sneer.

"He's gone for work a lot, yeah, but he'd be there for us if he could. And he's rearranged things at work so that he can be home more often," Greg says cheerfully, helping his mate dish out the eggs and toast to the children.

Sherlock just glares.

"Do you think John will be coming home tonight?" Mycroft asks.

"Probably not," Sherlock says, gloomily spooning up some scrambled egg. "He works all the time.”

"That's got to be hard. I know you spent almost all of your time together. To have that suddenly decreased has to be really tough," Mycroft says.

"I'm not looking for your sympathy," Sherlock says, taking his plate and walking out of the room.

"It looks like I touched a nerve," Mycroft says, turning to Greg.

"Yeah. At first I just thought he was touchy about not seeing John as much, but now I'm thinking they've had some sort of proper fight."

"He's none too excited to see me either," Mycroft says, putting down the toast plate and staring morosely at its crummy surface.

"Give it time, love," Greg says.

***

Sometimes deductions were useful, and most of the time they were an annoying background noise to Sherlock’s life, but every once in a while, they caused a real disruption in his life. Like now when he could see by his brother's limp what he'd been up to. Something specifically that his brother did not do with Greg. So Mycroft must have done that with another man, and then crawled into Greg's bed. Greg didn’t do deductions and wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

Sherlock feels vaguely nauseous. He wonders if John has found someone else. Or maybe he will now that he's gone all the time. Sherlock sets the plate on the desk and lays down on his bed to stare up at the ceiling, going into his mind palace to a time and place where everything was simpler and less disgusting.

***

John walks into the house that afternoon completely unprepared for the sight-spotlessness, and the smells-spicy Italian sauce.

"John!" Mycroft exclaims warmly. "I'm so glad you could make it! I understand that you've been doing a lot of working lately."

John holds himself rigid at the door. "Greg knows you're back, then? You're not planning to ambush him?"

Mycroft blinks in surprise. "Not sure why it would be called an ambush. He knows that I've got a few days off work, and he asked me to do a few things around the house."

John snorts. "Well, he's a lot more forgiving than I'd be in his place. It would take a lot more than a bit of housecleaning and cooking to take you back after you cheated on me."

Mycroft laughs, and then he stops as John’s expression deepens into pure hatred. "You think that I cheated on Greg?"

"Yeah, I think it's pretty obvious that's what happened," John says.

"No, of course not, never," Mycroft says. "I've been at work."

"What kind of a job do you spend more time away from home than you actually spend at home?"

"One in which travel to another country is a pretty frequent occurrence," Mycroft answers.

"What do you do?" John presses.

"I can't tell you that," Mycroft says.

John rolls his eyes. "Then I might as well be asking who do you do?"

"It's classified, John. The initial training was pretty intense, and I couldn't get away as often as I'd like. I told them I was going to quit if I didn't get more time with my family, and they made sure I got that time. I would never cheat on Greg."

"Mycroft, you've been gone every single night."

Mycroft shakes his head. "I've been home sometimes. But I often only had a few hours for sleep. That's about all I ever get, so I'm sure you didn't even know I'd been home. I did check in on you though. I always do when I come home and you’re sleeping."

"Okay, that just adds to the creep level, and does absolutely nothing to convince me that you haven't been cheating on Greg. He deserves better you know. He's here every single day, not just doing a marathon clean once and a while."

"I know that Greg deserves better than what I've been giving him. He told me as much last night. That's why I'm trying, John. I'm trying to do what he asked me. I've been a bad partner, I know it, but my being a shit partner, never, even for one second, involved me cheating on him."

"Look, I guess that's between you and Greg, but I don't trust you, and it's going to take a lot more than one clean of the house to make me trust you again. I think I'm safe speaking for Sherlock in saying that the same is true for him."

"I suppose if he thinks I'm cheating on Greg too that explains the attitude this morning."

"It's worse than that. He thought you chose him. Decided to raise him and that meant something to him. And now, when you've been gone like this it feels to him like you've taken it all back."

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says "It was...a miscalculation. I thought that providing my family with money and social status was what they required, but I see now it is time and acts of service that are actually needed. I've made the necessary changes, but it has only been one day, and I can only do so much."

John gives him a suspicious look, but then lets out a little sigh. “The food smells really good.”

***

Sherlock is surly at dinner and Oliver does everything short of physically grabbing Mycroft’s face to keep his attention during the whole meal. Greg is so grateful over little things that it makes Mycroft feel guilty for not having done those things. Even when he was in training, and he only had five hours to himself each night, he could have spent one of them in dishes and the other four in sleep.

"Oliver, I was reading up on how to cope with your problem," Mycroft says.

The little boy's face goes pale.

"It's not a problem so much as a difficulty, wouldn't you say?" Greg says, pointily trying to soften the blow.

"Right, sorry," Mycroft says. "But I have a few plans that might work. We can create a list that is pinned to your backpack of what you need to bring home every night, and we can get a planner which lists all the work which you have to do. If it is hard for you to focus when you are studying, we can set a timer and have you work for a short period of time, and then have a break of about equal length."

Oliver hangs his head down.

Greg sighs. "Ollie, we're just trying to help you okay? We're not mad or anything, we’re just trying to figure what works for you."

Oliver nods.

Mycroft looks confused. "Of course I'm not mad at him. What did I say that would make you think I’m angry with you, Ollie?"

"I don't think it was anything you said exactly, just the fact that you've not been home in days, and you start giving him advice right away. It came off as a bit harsh," Greg says.

"But you asked me to research this! I did exactly what you asked me to do, and it's not fair that I hurt him when I was following the directions that were supposed to fix everything!" Mycroft objects.

"You know, apologizing to your son might actually be more beneficial than scolding me right now," Greg says with frustration.

Mycroft bends his face over the table so that Oliver can see it, and gives him a big smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Oliver says.

"I'm really sorry about the way I sounded just now. I would never want you to think that I was anything but proud of you. I just heard that school has been hard for you lately, and I never want anything to be hard for you. I felt bad about it too, because I've been gone so much, and I should have been here, making things easier for you. I really am sorry I hurt your feelings, and I will try to watch myself in the future, okay? But know that I'm never out to be cruel. I love you too much for that." Mycroft lifts his head, and gives a smile to Sherlock, and John as well. "The same goes for the two of you."

John gives him a half-hearted smile, but Sherlock's mouth stays in a flat line.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mycroft exclaims, turning to Greg. "Can you please explain to him that I'm not cheating on you."

"What?" Greg asks in shock. "What on Earth would make him think that?"

"My being gone so much," Mycroft says evenly.

"Jesus, he's working, Sherlock!" Greg says.

"You're mad at him," Sherlock said.

"Yes, because I think he is working far too many hours, and I want him around for myself, and my kids more. Trust me when I say that if he cheated on me, I would be a whole lot angrier."

Greg pauses, but then when he sees he hasn't convinced Sherlock he sighs. "What else is there?"

Sherlock glances at Oliver, and then says, "The limp."

Greg chuckles, and shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm responsible for that."

"Oh," Sherlock says looking alarmed. "I just thought, since it was not something that you'd.... I'm sorry."

"You hurt Mycroft?" Oliver says looking at Greg with alarm.

"They were wrestling," John says.

"Oh," Oliver says. "You always tell us that we have to be gentle when we roughhouse. You should probably follow your own advice."

"Quite right," Greg says seriously.

"So, really, you're certain he's not cheating on you?" John asks.

"I'm sure," Greg says.

"It's only, I've never heard of a job that has someone out of town quite that much," John says.

"I can't explain," Mycroft says. "It's classified. But I do hope it will get better."

Greg takes Mycroft’s hand to give him a squeeze of comfort. "He was very much unaware of how much distress his absence was causing us, and now that he knows, it's going to change." He glares at Mycroft. "It had better change."

Mycroft nods his head.

"Well, I'm glad you're not cheating on Greg," Sherlock says. "Because he deserves a hell of a lot better than that. Well, he still deserves better than you, but..."

Mycroft nods. "And all of you deserve better than me being gone all the time too."

"You..." Sherlock says. "Put your life on hold for a time for me, and if you didn't want to do that anymore I would understand."

Mycroft stands up, walks around the table, and pulls Sherlock to his feet. "I didn't give up my life to take care of you. Taking care of you made my life begin," he says, pulling his brother in for a hug.


	5. Chapter 5

Eurus sits completely motionless in the living room. It gives her the unpleasant look of being some sort of living statue.

"You know you're allowed to move, right?" Greg asks her with a chuckle.

"I was told that I must be on my best behavior in order to get the chance to come out again. I wasn't sure exactly what best behavior entailed, but when Mummy said that it seemed mostly to include being still,” Eurus replies.

"You can do anything that doesn't hurt anyone or damage property," Mycroft says. He pauses, and Eurus still remains frozen. "Maybe we should come up with some sort of group activity. We've got some board games. Why don’t you go pick one out?"

Eurus chooses Pictionary and is oddly good at it. Everything she draws is an abstract representation or metaphor, but somehow they are so much easier for everyone to guess than if she'd drawn something simpler and concrete.

After that it's a family dinner, and time for charades before Eurus has to be driven back to the center.

"Did I behave?" Eurus asks from the backseat as up front Greg drives and Mycroft turns around to meet her eyes.

"Yes," Mycroft tells her,. "You did a very amazing job behaving."

Eurus bounces in her seat. "So then I can come back next week for twice as long?"

"We'll have to see, Eurus. I might be working then."

"That's not fair!" Eurus rages loud enough to run a shiver of panic down Greg's back. "The rules are I behave, and then I get to come to your house again! And if I behave enough times than I get to live with you. That is what the rules are, and you're not allowed to just change them!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but I don't have enough control over my work schedule to promise that I'll be available every single weekend."

"It's not fair!" Eurus repeats.

"You're right, it's not. They should recognize Greg as your guardian too. But they don't because we're gay, and gay people can't get married or adopt each other's kids. And you know what? I don't want it to be like that forever. And in order to have a shot at changing that I've got to work a job which means I won't be there for you as much as I want to be. I promise you that I am going to be there for you whenever I can, and that is just going to have to be enough because I can't physically do any more than I already am."

Greg takes a hand off the steering wheel of the panda car in order to hold his partner's hand.

"If you can't get weekends off, but can get other days off can you ask if I can come then instead?" Eurus asks.

"Yes, we can, and-" Mycroft sighs. "I do understand your frustration. I know that you've worked incredibly hard in order to earn, not only this visit, but all of the steps towards you coming to live with us full time. I'm sure it's frustrating to have that delayed."

"I just...want to do it before I'm of age. I don't know...I don't know what will happen if I don’t."

"Oh, we'll arrange it so that whatever adult...facility you go to wont’ be more restrictive than the one that you re in now Eurus.”

"I mean...if I'm ready to live to be free as an adult, I never could do it on my own, so I only have a few years to adjust, and..." Eurus begins.

Mycroft turns to look at her in the backseat, "Eurus you can live with us whenever you need to. Whether that is sixteen or forty-five. When I decided to take guardianship of you, I never thought it was going to end when you turned eighteen. We're family Eurus, and that doesn't have an expiration date."

Much of the panic and frustration rolls off of Eurus.

***

As they drive back after having dropped Eurus off Mycroft says, "I hope all of the things that I just said were okay with you? We've never really talked about how long a commitment we were making to my siblings."

"I’m in this for the long hall," Greg assures him.

"Thank God because that would be rather awkward to take back at this point."

Greg chuckles. Then he grows serious, "That thing you said, about thinking that this job would lead to power..."

Mycroft nods his head, just once, harshly

"I might me misunderstanding what you do," As Mycroft starts to open his mouth Greg rushes on "I know you can't tell me what you do, not exactly. I just...want to ask if you're really sure that the one is going to lead on to the other? Maybe you could get the political power without doing all of this."

Mycroft is silent for long enough that Greg is certain the answer is that he absolutely can't know. Then his voice is very quiet, "There is a job, one that not many people know about, and fewer . It's...a kind of power that can never be official. No one has ever had it without five or so years of what I'm doing now."

Mycroft had hinted that his current job was rather temporary before, but there has been no discussion of what exactly the 'temporary' meant. Five years. Well, that was a hell of a lot longer than Greg had thought that it was going to be. If he’s being perfectly honest it’s probably a hell of a lot longer than he can actually handle. But now he understands why Mycroft wanted it so badly, and he doesn’t want to take it from the man.

"Five years," Greg repeats fairly quietly. "Sherlock and John are going to be twenty then. Ollie will be ten. That's a lot of life. If you are going to be around like these last two days, then ,God, you changing the world is something that I want to sign up for. But you can't bow out of five years of our kid's lives like you've bowed out of the last six months."

"I want to marry you, properly, and it to mean every bit as much as if we were marrying women," Mycroft says.

"I want that too," Greg says, flashing him a smile. "But... more than that I want to have you. You know, in my bed, across my dinner table, in my life. That matters to me way more than whether or not the rest of the world recognizes what we have. That's just details. That's just a title."

Mycroft nods. "I hope we can have both."

Greg reaches over to give Mycroft’s hand a squeeze. He misses, fumbles, and Mycroft doesn't reach out his hand to join them together. Greg returns his hand to the wheel and tries not to fret about what it might mean that his partner doesn't care about holding his hand the way that Greg cares about it.

***

"Greg, you have to come get me," John's broken voice says over the phone.

"Okay. I'm going to be right there. Where are you?"

"The shop on the corner by my house...hurry," John says, trying to hide a sob in the urgency of his voice.

Greg uses the sirens.

***

Greg finds John huddled in a corner holding a soda bottle in a way that shows he is clearly determined to use it as a weapon should it come down to that.

"John, it's me," he says, going in for a hug. John pulls away from the hug, and at first Greg thinks it is a reaction to the trauma that he has clearly been through, but when he pulls away, and goes to apologize Greg sees that John's face is grimaced in obvious physical pain.

"John, what's wrong?"

"Can we just go home?" John asks.

But now Greg has located where the injury is. "Is your arm broken?"

"I just want to go home," John says.

Greg takes off his coat even though the air inside of the shop (let alone the air outside of it) is cold enough that it would make more sense to leave it on and makes a makeshift sling out of it. "You've got to get that arm looked at."

"Please just leave it," John says. "I don't want to go back into care."

Greg sighs. "Look, John. I can't promise that won't happen to you, but we can try to prevent it. And you know Mycroft and I are still foster parents, so if it came to that we might be able to be the ones who take you. Worse case? Its' a couple of months ‘til you age out, and you can still spend most of your time at our place. You can't just walk around with a broken arm for months and impair your ability to use that arm forever. For God's sake, you write with your left hand!"

John sniffs again.

"Let's finish this discussion in the car, yeah?" Greg says, carefully taking the pop bottle out of John’s hand and putting it back in the case. John nods his head and follows him. When they are seated in the car Greg looks at the boy. "John, you want to talk about what happened in foster care that is so terrible you're willing to walk around with a broken arm to avoid that happening again?"

"Nothing," John says looking down. "But it's not home."

"Your house is? Because that's where you've been lately," Greg asks lightly.

John's body starts to shake. Greg puts a hand on his leg since trying to hug him will cause the boy pain, but the hand on his knee feels very awkward, and Greg pulls it away after a few seconds.

John looks at him. "Can I live with you? When I'm sixteen?"

Greg blinks at him in surprise. "Yeah, I thought that was the plan."

"I... got a job because I was trying to afford my own place, but flats are really expensive."

"Oh, God, John, I just assumed you were saving up for university. I never thought..." he sighs. "I still don't understand why you’ve been spending so much time at your dad's place."

"I was sneaking my stuff out, bit by bit. I was storing it in Eurus's closet until I could get my own place. He noticed today."

"Oh, John," Greg says. "I've always thought of that as your room."

"She's going to be living with you soon."

"Yeah, and we're going to have to figure out a little room shuffle. That's very different than you not living with us," Greg says.

"You never said...never..."

"You're right. I never should have taken for granted you becoming a part of my family. You’re being in our family is a gift, and it should have been celebrated like one. Well, we're going to put up a bloody countdown as soon as we get home. Now, can I please take you to get that arm sorted?"

John nods his head, and Greg pulls the panda car away from the curb.

"I'm...not going back there," John says.

"Of course not. We'll buy you new of whatever you had to leave behind. There was nothing irreplaceable was there? Otherwise, Mycroft and I could go get it for you."

John shakes his head.

***

The doctor frowns at the arm. "I'm afraid that it’s going to have to be x-rayed. How exactly did this happen?"

John is silent, and the doctor looks at Greg. "Could you step into the hall?"

"Yeah, of course," Greg says, turning to make his rapid exit.

"No," John says.

"Hey, I'm just going to the waiting room. They want to make sure I'm not the one abusing you," Greg says.

"I don't want to go back to foster care," John says desperately, catching Greg’s sleeve awkwardly with his right hand.

Greg sighs, and turns to the doctor. "I think you'll find that his dad has a pretty lengthy record of doing these things to him. I'm his best friend's guardian, and he's been spending a lot of time at our house. He's nearly sixteen, and won't be going back to his dad's house again. We don't have to dump him in the system do we?"

The doctor is silent.

"It's just, well, he didn't want to come and get medical care at all, but I convinced him to take the risk. I’d hate to think that I gave him advice which will make him less likely to trust me in the future.”

Greg smiles and nods at John, who hesitates, but then lets go of Greg’s sleeve. Greg walks into the waiting room really hoping that everything that he said didn't just have the effect of making him sound a hell of a lot more like an abuser than when he began.

It's not long before a nurse calls him back, and he sees a scared looking John. "I asked if you could come and sit by me while I get the cast on. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Greg says, moving to put his hand on the boy's good shoulder.

"I was worried that you might leave."

"Sorry, kiddo. You're stuck with me until you tell me to go. Did they call social services?"

"No, he believed me when I said it wasn't you who did it. Anyway, there were multiple incidences in my file against my dad, and none against you, so that helped."

"All right, John. The worst is over, and everything is going to be okay now.”

"All right," a doctor says, entering the room. "Ready to get that cast on?"

***

"John!" Sherlock says, advancing toward him rapidly.

John takes a step away from him.

"For God's sake, Sherlock, can you be gentle?" Greg scolds.

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Arm's broken," John mutters.

"That's it?" Sherlock asks, frantically looking him up and down with an eye towards deduction.

"You sound like you want him to be hurt more!" Greg exclaims.

"I just expected it with how long the two of you were gone. I was really worried."

John reaches forward, and gives him a squeeze "It was bad, Sherlock, but the actual damage to my body isn't so terrible."

"But did they check everything? I could get a light and shine it in your eyes if you think that would help."

"I think you’re absolutely bonkers," John says. "I promise you that everything is all right."

"I'll keep an eye out for any sort of behavioral changes," Sherlock promises with a sage nod of his head.

"I think I just want some medicine, tea, and a nap, actually," John says.

"Right.," Sherlock says, turning and trying to bustle off into the kitchen but he stops when he hears Greg's next words.

"You go, and lay down in YOUR room, and we'll bring you some things."

Greg follows Sherlock into the kitchen to help with the tea and get some pain medicine for John, and Sherlock asks him in a whisper, "You know, then? That we share a bed?"

"Yeah, Sherlock, but that wasn't what I was getting at there. He was calling it Eurus's bedroom, and felt like he didn't belong in our family. That was me trying to tell him that he did. It's probably not the best day to discuss the other bit, but I'm always open if you want to."

"Oh," Sherlock says. "I guess, I thought there would be yelling when you found out."

"We did talk about it, Sherlock, and I'm glad the two of you are using protection. Surely you must have noticed that I replenished your supply?"

John walks into the kitchen to give Greg his coat back, and freezes, looking at Sherlock in horror. "Who are you sleeping with?"

"No one," Sherlock says.

"Well, it sure isn't me and yet you've apparently gone through an entire box of condoms," John says.

"How could you even imagine that I would do that with someone else, John?" Sherlock says wounded. "I used them in an experiment. They are very handy when you need something waterproof."

John lets out a relieved huff and pulls Sherlock into a hug with his good arm.

"I could show you the experiment if you don't believe me," Sherlock says over John's shoulder to Greg.

"No, I believe you," Greg says.

John pulls away. "I thought you'd cheated on me because I left you alone working so often. I thought I'd ruined everything between us."

"Well, I'm not about to cheat on you, but I also really wouldn't mind if you quit your job to spend more time with me."

"And now that you know that you will always have a place in our house your job is probably a bit less important than it was before," Greg says. "Of course, you should probably spend some time saving for college.

"I think spending time to keep my grades high and focusing on scholarships might be a better way to spend my time," John says. "I'll put in my two weeks."

"John can stay?" Sherlock asks with excitement.

"Yeah, of course he can," Greg says.

"I told you that you should have just asked him," Sherlock says to John with a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah, well, sorry I didn't fancy just asking my boyfriend's guardian if I can move in," John says. "Bit rude, that is."

"Not when you're family. God, I wished I would have said something to you, and maybe I could have saved you from getting hurt like that. After dinner we'll help you get that closet unpacked," Greg says.

"But...it's Eurus’s room, and she's going to be needing it soon," John objects.

"She's not going to be needing the room more than you will anytime soon, and I think that it would be best for Sherlock and Oliver to share."

"I could share with Sherlock," John says.

Greg shoots him a look. "We just established that you're not having sex, and I'd hate for our room situation to be the reason why that changed."

"He already sneaks into my room quite a lot, which you said that you knew. And if making it official would help with a housing problem, well, isn't this a two birds with one stone kind of a situation?"

"Sherlock..." Greg begins.

As soon as Sherlock realizes that Greg is going to say no again, he rushes on, "I would feel much more comfortable having John with me in my room when Eurus starts to spend the night."

Greg nods slowly. "Okay, but you are going to have separate beds, small ones. Assuming, of course, that it's okay with John," Greg says, turning to the boy.

"Are you serious? Of course, it's okay with me!"

The kettle flips off, and Sherlock goes to pour John the promised tea.


End file.
